Alone
by Sirens And Muses
Summary: She was gone, and he was left here alone...Horrible, depressing angst and sadness. You should really read it. Rated T because. Oneshot.


**Siren: We're on this 'let's create new stories despite the fact that we have too many others to update already' streak.**

**Muse: Yeah. We'll probably get around to updating one tomorrow.**

**Siren: Ohh, look, emo!**

**Muse: Disclaimer!**

**(poof) Rufus Shinra: Sirens & Muses don't own ToS or FFVII.**

**Siren: You know, you make no sense. There is no conceivable way you would've survived being STRUCK BY GIANT FIREBALLS. Seriously, you were on fire. You EXPLODED! We all saw it! How the fuck did you manage to get off with being in a wheelchair and covered with a bed sheet? Really? By all rights you should be dead. A charred pile of ashes in the rubble that was your office. Why are you still alive?**

**Rufus: ...Because. (poof)**

**Muse: Well, you can't argue with THAT logic. Anyway, read on!**

**Siren: Review, please!**

* * *

Yuan tossed and turned in the bed. He wasn't used to sleeping alone. Eating alone. Being alone.

Tears fell down his face again. How many days had it been? More than a week, but he wasn't exactly sure. Since _that day_-he couldn't think about it-he'd stayed holed up in an inn room in Meltokio, alternating between sleeping and crying. Alone.

He heard Kratos and Mithos outside his door, whispering. Whenever one would come into the room, he would feign sleep until they left. Twice, Kratos actually checked his pulse.

Yuan sighed. He was so tired…he closed his eyes, forcing the tears back.

* * *

"_Yuan!" He saw her, running towards him, calling for him. That bright smile, those beautiful eyes..._

"_Martel?" He reached out, then took off running for her. "Martel!"_

_He knew it couldn't be true, she wasn't dead. It was silly for him to even think it. She laughed as she dove into him, knocking them both down. She buried her face in his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him._

_He held her close, running his fingers through her long, soft hair as it spread out around him. The feel of it was as familiar as his own skin, the gentle combing motion of his hands automatic._

"_Yuan…" she whispered. He looked down in concern. "I…I love…love you…"_

_He pulled her away from him, his eyes going wide as he saw her wound and the blood flowing from it._

"_No, no." He pulled her closer to him, willing her back to life. She couldn't go. He couldn't sleep alone, eat alone, be alone. He couldn't be alone for the rest of his life._

"_Don't..." The light in her eyes was fading, that smile slipping off her face. Her steady, even breath slowed to a stop. The gem glowed brightly, as if it, too, knew she was dying. He felt tears overwhelm him again, felt warm, sticky blood spread over his hands._

"_This isn't right," he moaned. He watched as the blood seeped into her pale green hair. It was unbearable, impossible to watch. But he couldn't look away._

"_Martel," he said. His voice rose to a scream. "Martel! Martel!"_

_Pearls of tears fell on her cheek, mixing with the crimson blood. He didn't want to see it anymore, not again. He felt sick, very sick._

* * *

Yuan's eyes snapped open. He rolled out of bed, rushing for the bathroom. He collapsed, gagging and choking, barely making it to the toilet before he vomited.

His body started to shake, tears pouring out. He sobbed for a few moments, staring at the ring on his finger that had meant so much.

He and Martel had wanted to buy a house. They wanted a family. They'd even mused over names for their children. Children who would now only be figments of Yuan's imagination.

Now, not only was he forced to sleep, eat, and be alone, but he was destined to die alone as well.

Yuan stood, weak-kneed, and rinsed his mouth out at the sink. As he was doing so, he caught sight of his reflection.

He looked terrible; Martel would be ashamed. His long hair, usually pulled back, hung down. It was dirty and tangled, draped across his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. If he could grow a beard, he knew he'd have a five o'clock shadow.

He started to laugh. Martel had once told him that only scruffy, gross men grew beards. He'd been annoyed because he was almost a thirty-year-old man and he'd never shaved in his life. She'd been so sweet to him, always cheering him up. His laughter grew louder, grew into hysterics.

Tears streamed down his face. He just couldn't stop laughing. Here he was, laughing his head off, while she could no longer laugh. Laughing, while she was dead.

It should've been him. She'd been perfect, beautiful, kind. He was nothing compared to her. He didn't deserve her, and he didn't deserve to live while she died.

His laughter still going, Yuan punched the mirror several times. It shattered, slivers of glass slicing his knuckles. Abruptly, the laughter stopped.

He leaned his forehead against the broken mirror, unable to cry or laugh anymore. The sickening realization sunk in that she was gone, lost between two worlds. He'd never see her again, never hold her, never sleep with her, eat with her, be with her again. He was going to die alone.

Deliberately, he picked up a shard of glass. Holding it above his wrist, he felt a strong hand grip both his arms.

"Stop." Kratos wrestled the glass out of Yuan's fingers, while he thrashed and flailed.

"Let me go!" he screamed, but Kratos held him tightly. Finally, he collapsed on the floor, crying into his hands. His friend hoisted him and led him into the bedroom.

Mithos was standing as Kratos settled Yuan on the edge of the bed. He registered that Mithos didn't look as bad as himself. In fact, the teen looked a little lost and a little sad.

"I want to die," Yuan muttered. "Let me die."

"Yuan-" Kratos began.

"I can't live like this," Yuan cut in. "Not without her."

"Yuan," Kratos said again. "What would you do to get Martel back?"

Yuan looked up. There was no hint of dishonesty in Kratos' eyes. He glanced at Mithos. There was a glint of something in his expression, of determination and desperation.

"Anything," Yuan gasped.

"I have…an idea. A plan to bring Martel back," Mithos said quietly.

Yuan felt a glimmer of hope as Mithos explained his plan. Parts of it he didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He wanted-no, he _needed_- this to work. He would do anything for it. Anything not to have to sleep alone, eat alone, be alone. Anything not to die alone.


End file.
